


i've been [hunting] for you

by WindyRein



Series: shattered light [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier? - Fandom
Genre: At least I tried, Dark-centric, Darkiplier Mark Fischbach, Gen, Horror, Lovecraftian, Lovecraftian Monster(s), POV Dark, POV Darkiplier, POV Third Person, Post-Who Killed Markiplier?, Probably Never Over It, Psychological Horror, Vaguely Lovecraftian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-04 16:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15845145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindyRein/pseuds/WindyRein
Summary: Dark doesn't know when or why he started avoiding mirrors. Maybe it was straight after the manor and maybe it was because he couldn't bear to look at himself anymore because of the betrayal he'd orchestrated. Maybe it was something else. Maybe it was somewhen else.





	i've been [hunting] for you

**Author's Note:**

> Definitely recommend listening to the song while reading. :)  
> Writing music & (mangled) title: [Diggers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ixtOCUHtAhA) by Bitter Ruin
> 
> Also, this went in a completely different direction than I was expecting :D More on that at the end. :)
> 
> [extra salty note: original title, and the one i really wanted to use was "i've been ~~waiting~~ hunting for you" but ao3 doesn't allow html in the title :( i checked.]

Dark doesn't know when or why he started avoiding mirrors. Maybe it was straight after the manor and maybe it was because he couldn't bear to look at himself anymore because of the betrayal he'd orchestrated. Maybe it was something else. Maybe it was somewhen else.

But the oddness starts with him catching something from the corner of his eye whenever he passes a mirror. It's probably just his own reflection or aura. It's not like there's anything else it could be.

(so easy to lie to yourself)

Next comes the laughter. Or... giggling is more precise. When it starts he thinks it's Wilford since he's always nearby but then it happens when he _knows_ the house is empty. The others gone on some sort of shopping trip or something like it, he wasn't paying attention.

He walks past a mirror and sure the room is shadowed but there's something in the mirror in the corner of his eye, something darker and more alive. He stops and without turning tries to see details. He catches glimpses of a familiar slope of nose, of barely remembered, barely formed crow's feet, the glint of light off familiar hair.

There's a giggle as something moves in the mirror and then it's all gone. It's just him and the mirror and the familiar empty house.

Nothing happens for days, for weeks and he almost convinces himself nothing happened at all, that it had just been sleep deprivation playing tricks on him.

He wakes up, stumbles into the bathroom, splashes his face with water and looks up.

And straight into the mirror.

There's nothing there but his reflection, the reflection of the bathroom and the words _I've been looking for you_ dripping in black ichor.

(he doesn't scream, no matter what wilford says)

He may get slightly more paranoid after that, and making damn sure none of the others had thought it a _hilarious_ joke.

He starts actively, _consciously_ avoiding mirrors except it doesn't seem to help. Now there's something in all reflective surfaces, something black and alive and there-not-there.

(or maybe he's just paranoid. he trapped his friend in the mirror, _in the house_ , and they're still there, aren't they? safe like celine should've been)

Then comes the tapping. Every time he gets even slightly close to a mirror there's a tap-tap-tap. It gets to a point where he starts twitching even when it's just one of the others tapping their fingers on a table in boredom or impatience.

(it can't be real, he made sure the other couldn't leave)

He stops sleeping. He can't dream anymore. The reincarnation's tendency to nightmares was something they all had but it'd never bothered him before. Now though... Now he dreams of old friends dripping ichor like thick ink crawling out of cracks in mirrors, glasses, windows, shuffling towards him, reaching for him words muffled by the black oozing from their mouths, choking on tar spilling from their eyes. It's always silent until the end. The end when the thing reaches for him and the tapping gets louder and louder and louder until it feels like cannons going off in his head.

He wakes.

He doesn't sleep.

He stops going to bed.

He leaves his room to rot.

The others don't notice.

It's not like his body can form dark circles around his eyes.

(the tapping haunts his every step)

It's when the walls start dripping black that he thinks he might need sleep. It's when the mirrors start whispering at him that he thinks he might need to mention this to Wilford.

It's when he wakes in the middle of the living room floor choking on hands around his neck _(too many hands)_ that he knows he should go see the Doctor.

(he doesn't, of course he doesn't, it'd be admitting weakness)

It comes to a head. Everything does at some point or another. For him, for them, for whatever this is, it's when there's a meeting with Wilford showing off yet another _brilliant_ project.

The TV screen cracks. A hand reaches out of it, claws black and endless and sharper than thought. They dig into the wall by the TV and pull. Slowly a body emerges, still dressed like all those decades ago, maybe a bit more tattered. Blackredbrown hair hides the features. The person, his once-friend, looks up and Dark screams and scrambles backward. The eyes are black and endless and non-existing. The mouth is filled with far too many, impossibly sharp teeth. The face is gaunt, starving, the bones sharp under translucent skin.

He stops moving only when he hits the wall. The others are all staring at him like he's gone crazy, like they don't see anything wrong with any of this, maybe he has, maybe there isn't. (sleep deprivation causes hallucinations he knows but that's human weakness)

The thing pulls itself on unsteady feet and crawls on the table. It pulls itself forward with its claws and now the others are pushing back from the table as well. (they can't see it, of course they can't, they're not _void_ , but its effects on the world? those are visible to all.)

Dark doesn't even notice. He's too concentrated on trying to find a way out and forgetting that he can pull the shadows around himself and just disappear.

"Yoouu...", the thing that was once a close friend moans. "Yoouuu diiid thisss to _meee_.", it hisses.

Dark blinks and his friend's scrambled to the edge nearest him. The movements are all wrong, jerky and twitchy, limbs stop in the completely wrong places and the only thing that seems to be moving right are the claws, maybe only because they're digging into the hardwood, into _reality_.

It lurches, jumps, stop-starts, and Dark has too many teeth in his face, too sharp claws around his neck.

"Noow yooou'rrre miiine."

And there's only black.

**Author's Note:**

> Missed tags are appreciated and reviews are loved. :)
> 
> I started writing this because I wanted to write more in this 'verse basically and there was that headcanon floating around tumblr about the DA becoming Dark's reflection and Dark avoiding mirrors because of it. It morphed into the DA driving Dark crazy and breaking him as revenge for being trapped in the mirror and then I was staring at the end of the sleeping bit and listening to [Beat The Devil's Tattoo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gn9C1vKd7Gc) and the end just came to me and here we are :D  
> Also, I feel like my Dark always ends up too soft to be real but hell if I can figure out how to change it.
> 
> Questions? I probably have answers :D
> 
> (also, i'm semi-randomly on [tumblr](https://poutingtrolltroll.tumblr.com) and sporadically wailing about my longer projects being dicks and not wanting to go anywhere)


End file.
